Enzo
I sighed, closing my eyes as Donovan pulled the car to the curb.
“I’ll be late,” I said. “Don’t stay up and wait. You need to sleep.”
Serena sighed on the other side of the phone. I hated being away from her and Harper. We’d fallen into a rhythm over the last few weeks.
I made a conscious effort to be home for dinner, where we all ate. Sometimes, some of my men stopped by; some days, it was just us.
Then both Serena and I got Harper ready for bed. Over the last few days, Harper had declared that I was a better storyteller because I changed voices for each character, so I had the honor of reading her as many stories as she wanted before she fell asleep.
It was perfect. Every night was better than the last.
There were going to be days when I couldn’t be there—I knew that. But it didn’t mean I had to like it.
“Okay. I hope everything is okay,” she said. I could hear the worry in her voice.
“Yeah, angelo mio, it’s only a last-minute meeting,” I said. “Ti amo.”
“One of these days I’m going to learn Italian so that I know what you’re saying.” Serena laughed.
I hoped she didn’t. That way I could tell her things she wasn’t ready to hear, but I was ready to say, like telling her I loved her, without her really knowing.
“I’ll be waiting for you in bed,” Serena said and hung up.
I tapped my phone on my thigh, debating if I should even bother with this excursion.
“Get out,” Rafael said as he opened the car door. “We didn’t come all this way to sit in the car and stare at the place.”
He adjusted his suit jacket and glared at me. I rolled my eyes and followed; Donovan and Angelo were close behind us.
We walked down the street and stopped at the doors of a building that took up half a city block.
It was the Art Deco style New York was known for, with a black flag bearing white letters that read “The Lexington Club.”
The most exclusive club on the East Coast. Famous for being selective, one of the country’s most elite and sought-after memberships. There were only two ways to become a member—through legacy, where fathers passed it down to sons, or by invitation.
Some billionaires couldn’t even get an invite.
And they had extended one to me several months ago.
I had never used it, but seeing as my target was a frequent member, it was high time I exercised my membership.
“Let’s do this. I’m missing story time,” I said.
“Oh no, not story time.” Rafael mocked me with a smile. He looked at me and raised his hands. “Kidding. Kidding.”
We went up the steps. The doorman opened the door and greeted us.
Stepping inside, it was like being sent back in time. While there were some modern additions, the owners had kept the integrity of the structure.
It was old-money opulence, reminding me of the show Serena made me watch about the Gilded Age—tall ceilings, thick columns, wide wooden staircases that shone with polish.
Men milled around on leather couches and at tables, some with laptops, drinks at hand.
“This is going to be fun.” Rafael clapped his hands and started walking to the staircase on the left. He knew where the target was.
Two floors up, we reached the closed double doors. We could hear music, not too loud but noticeable, and low voices. The stench of cigars seeped through.
I stood back as Donovan and Angelo threw open the double doors, causing everyone in the room to turn our way.
Women in skimpy lingerie jumped. Some were standing; others were in men’s laps.
They recognized us immediately. Some of them knew me specifically—they were Dmitry Popov’s women, the man who ran the Russians.
The women moved, walking in single file out of the room without being told.
Rafael stood at the door, bowing like a butler as the women exited, smiling as he said, “Thank you, ladies. You’ve been wonderful.”
Donovan cut the music off.
“Get out,” I said loudly.
A guy in a rumpled button-down shirt stood up, his eyes glassed over in a way that I knew he was on the wrong side of tipsy.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he yelled.
I sighed, shaking my head. Donovan, Angelo, Rafael, and I pulled out our guns, aiming them at various men.
The room went still.
“Get out.” I said again, my voice low and menacing
Everyone scrambled to their feet and rushed for the door.
I stepped in front of one—the reason I’d come.
“Not you.” I tapped him on the shoulder with my gun. “You sit down.”
Charles Clearwart’s face went red as he watched his friend run out of the room, leaving him behind.
Nudging him to the chairs in the center of the room that faced each other, I made him sit in one while I took the other.
Donovan and Angelo took their positions standing behind him, while Rafael took his position behind me.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you, man, too,” I paused, because in my eyes, Charles wasn’t a man; he was a pathetic weasel, “you.”
“If this is about that bitch,” he snarled.
I raised my eyebrows. Donovan reached over and tweaked Charles’ ear, as a mother would a misbehaving son.
He screeched, moving to stand. Angelo shoved him back in his chair.
“Don’t call her that. Ever again.” I held my gun, resting it on my thigh.
“Not unless you have a death wish,” Rafael added.
“Serena and Harper are mine,” I stated.
“The fuck,” he started, but Angelo reached over and slapped his Adam’s apple, causing him to gargle the words and cough.
I waited until he finished wheezing. This was important, and I didn’t want him to pretend he didn’t hear me.
“Stop talking,” I ordered. I promised Serena I wouldn’t cause him real damage, so I had to resort to these childish antics so I could confidently say to Serena, without lying, that I did not hurt Charles.
“I think he should keep trying to move. Donovan and Angelo need to practice their torture techniques.” Rafael shrugged. “They’re young but creative.”
Donovan and Angelo stood taller at the compliment.
“You fucked up your life,” I started. “You ruined the best thing in your life. Now, you’re left watching Serena and Harper thrive without you.” I leaned forward. “That must burn you. That they’re doing better without you than with you. That they don’t and never will need you.”
“I am Harper’s father. She’ll always need me,” Charles said. I wanted to punch him in his smug face.
“No. She won’t. Not when there’s someone else taking care of her. Tucking her in at night.” I tilted my head. “Calling me Daddy.”
Charles thought he had some sick ownership of Serena and Harper.
“I’m her dad. She knows that.”
“Harper’s smart. Soon, she’ll realize you’re nothing but a sperm donor. A waste of space. She’ll stop calling you Dad, stop caring when you don’t show up. Because I’ll be there. Doing everything you were too weak to do.”
Charles opened his mouth, but he had nothing to say that I needed to hear. I motioned to Donovan, who pulled some fabric from his pocket. Angelo held Charles still while Donovan shoved it in his mouth, pulled out duct tape, and wrapped it around the idiot’s head.
Donovan and Angelo moved so fast that Charles barely had time to react. He tried to stand, but Angelo held him down. When he tried to pull the duct tape off, the two men worked in tandem to tape his arms to the chair.
I looked at Rafael, surprised. Where the hell was Donovan carrying that much duct tape?
Rafael shrugged, smiling. He always enjoyed a good show.
“Do I have your attention now?” Charles shook in his chair, unsuccessfully trying to break free.
He tried to yell, but the noise came out muffled.
“Good. Let’s get some things clear. Keep fucking with Serena, and I’ll put a bullet through your eyes.
” I raised the gun, aiming it at his head.
“This pathetic custody shit? It’s done. If you decide to continue, I will tear apart everything you care about.
You’ll have nothing left when I’m through with you, if I don’t decide to put you six feet under and put us all out of our misery. ”
I love how enraged Charles got the more I talked, yet he didn’t move a muscle.
I lifted my nose, making a dramatic show of sniffing the air. “You smell that, Raf?”
Rafael mimicked my actions. “Yeah. Smells like fear.” He looked at Charles, amused. “You piss yourself? I almost didn’t believe my brother when he told me what a waste of space you were.” He shook his head. “Looking at you now, he was being nice.”
I placed my elbow on the arm of the chair and rested my chin in my hand.
“You fucked up the best thing in your life.” I stood and put the gun in my waistband.
I headed to the door, Rafael walking beside me. Donovan and Angelo opened the double doors for us, and we left the Lexington Club with Charles’ muffled curses following us out.